


Of Glaring Gates

by Vérë (Weltenweber)



Series: His Greatest Achievement [4]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Elrond, Bragging, Everyone - fear the House of Fëanor!, Gen, Humor, Light-Hearted, Revenge, Valinor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-13 04:39:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16885776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Weltenweber/pseuds/V%C3%A9r%C3%AB
Summary: „Turgon should really have known better then to claim that his gate was superior to Formenos' entrance door. Fëanor never liked having the quality of his crafts questioned.“In which Turgon learns that you really should not cross Fëanor, Eönwë ponders over the sanity of the house of Finwë and Elrond gets to be awesome yet again.Readable as stand-alone.





	Of Glaring Gates

**Author's Note:**

> Hey Ho,
> 
> Happy Saint Nicholas Day!
> 
> This time I have not much to say, I just hope you enjoy reading this little fic.
> 
> I certainly had fun writing it. =)

Turgon was a proud elf. And he had every reason to be. He had once been the king of Gondolin, after all.

So it surprised absolutely no one, that upon his release from Mandos, he immediately set out to recreate his beloved kingdom.

What _did_ surprise them, however, was the manner in which he did it. Because of a severe lack of space, Turgon was forced to reinterpret and reduce his designs to an absolute minimum.

In the end the only thing that remained of it was a gigantic, oversized gate made out of the most durable and shiniest metal found on Valinor.

Flanked imposingly by two huge gate posts made of smooth, regal stone, it gave a magnificent sight.

A masterpiece.

Impressive.

Majestic.

Just like himself.

And he was proud of it. So _very_ proud.

So _of course_  he bragged to everyone who was willing to listen (and to everyone who wasn't) about the indestructibility and supremacy of his doorway.

But he should _really_ have known better then to claim that his gate was superior to Formenos' entrance door.

Fëanor never liked having the quality of his crafts questioned.

 

~*~

 

Fëanor paced the room in agitation, muttering angrily about annoying half-brothers and their insolent offspring.

His sons, gathered inside their father's study for yet another emergency meeting, were equally incensed. Well, incensed was not really the right word for it. They were _furious_.

Nobody, absolutely __nobody__ could surpass their father in craftsmanship. So there was no way, that that _novice-made_  gate their so-called cousin was so proud of, could hold a candle towards their entrance door.

The moment they had heard about that claim, they had thrown down whatever they were doing and stomped off to inform their father about his half-nephew's impudence, scaring quite a few of their servants with the amount of killing intent they were emitting.

The only one who seemed to be completely unimpressed by the murderous atmosphere surrounding them was Elrond, who had been visiting his foster father and had somehow ended up being dragged along.

Sipping calmly on his cup of tea, Fëanor's tea set was really exquisite, he watched the proceedings in front of him with something akin to mild interest and no small amount of exasperation.

Honestly, they always got worked up so quickly.

But then again, Elrond threw another glance at the intricately-decorated mithril teapot, Fëanor's skills were really unparalleled. So perhaps, their indignation was somewhat understandable. This time.

He just hoped against hope that they were not going to do something rash like -

"We are going to show this _child_ just how inferior his precious gate is!"

In Fëanor's hand was a vial, filled with a _very_ familiar looking substance.

Elrond sighed. Sometimes he hated being right.

"Do you really think that is necessary?", he asked mildly.

"No.", Fëanor answered immediately, grinning dangerously. "But it is fun."

"Of course.", Elrond muttered quietly. "That's all you are ever about."

Fëanor glared fiercely at him.

Elrond, however, remained utterly unimpressed and serenely continued to sip his tea.

It was just a glare, after all.

Focused entirely on stirring his cup, he never saw the impressed merriment dance in the eyes of the room's occupants.

How was he to know after all, that Fëanor's sons were the only ones who could ever withstand their father's glare?

So he remained blissfully unaware, that he had just done something very impressive _yet again._

 

~*~

 

Curufinwë put the empty vial inside his pocket. A dark smirk played around his lips.

Looking forward to the coming morning, he returned home, quickly and silently.

Behind him the moon's reflection distorted on a bright, wet metal surface.

 

~*~

 

The morning dawned bright and early. And with it came the rather disconcerting sight in form of Fëanor and his seven sons laying siege to Turgon's gate.

The elf tasked with opening and closing the majestic doorway stared in nervousness as the son of fire glared at the oversized entrance like it had just insulted his entire linage.

Fëanor completely ignored the elf's presence as his eyes wandered critically over the construction, his lips curled in unmistakable distaste.

Then he raised his hand. And knocked.

There was a loud menacing rumbling sound and suddenly the gate collapsed.

" _Hmpf_ ", Fëanor commented disdainfully, eyeing the pitiful remains with contempt. "What a shoddy piece of workmanship."

 

~*~

 

Eönwë had been sent to investigate the commotion.

He did not know what he had expected to find, but it was certainly not _that_.

The doorway to Gondolin Renewed had fallen.

Well, fallen was not the right word. Turgons "impressively mighty gate that will withstand even the strongest of foes" had been completely _shattered._

He still did not understand why the ex-king of Gondolin had insisted on building a shiny metal gate _twice_ the size of his house in front of his entrance door. Especially since the fence surrounding Turgon's home was only waist-high and could be easily climbed over.

But then, the house of Finwë was notorious for its eccentrics, so trying to find sense in their behaviour was as futile as trying to entice an orc into taking up a vegetarian diet.

So it was best not to ask any questions and just let them be.

But the eccentrics of house Finwë aside, Eönwë still had a hard time believing that a gate could simply break down.

And the same thing could be said of Turgon. Standing in front of the collapsed construction, surrounded by his subjects, he sorrowfully looked at what used to be his greatest pride and joy.

~*~

Deciding that he had been overlooked long enough, Fëanor thought it was time to remind them of his presence.

"So this pitiful _thing_ was supposed to be better then _**my** _entrance door?"

 

Eönwë briefly closed his eyes as he heard the very __familiar__ and very __unwelcome__ voice. No not him. Not now. Not -

 

"Even a human would make a sturdier wooden door. "

 

Eönwë sighed quietly and turned around. Immediately he felt the urge to leave what was undoubtedly going to become another headache-inducing scene.

Fëanor had brought his sons along.

All seven of them.

_'Wonderful.'_

 

"Honestly, nephew.", Fëanor continued, picking up a piece of debris. "That work is pathetic. All I did was knock and it collapsed into itself."

 

_'He. Did._ What _ _?!'__

_'No. Don't ask questions. He knocked and it BROKE! Don't ask questions. Don't ask questions. Don't ask - '_

 

"You are saying that - that you ****knocked**** on itand it ****broke****?!"

 

He had tried. Really. But that was just plainly ridiculous. Just how would an elf of all people be able to knock down a gate?!

 

"That's what I just said.", Fëanor huffed, sounding slightly amused.

 

"This is ridiculous. A mighty gate like this does not break just from _knocking_ on it!"

 

_'Thank you, Turgon._ ', Eönwë thought. _'At least someone is sensible here.'_

He resolutely squashed down the sudden traitorous thought that he had just called the elf who build a gigantic metal gate next to a waist-high fence sensible.

 

"Of course it did not just break from knocking.", Carnistir said calmly.

 

"Yes. That would be completely **unrealistic**.", Maitimo agreed.

 

Did the sons of Fëanor just display _common sense_?!

Eönwë inconspicuously glanced into the direction of the Door of Night, almost expecting Melkor to descend down on them, proclaiming the end of all days.

 

"Naturally father **glared** at it first.", Curufinwë explained cheerfully.

 

And suddenly things started to make sense again.

He would certainly not put it past _that_ particular elf to be able to make even metal yield.

_No one_ could withstand his glare, after all.

 

~*~

 

"What a _coincidence_ to meet you all here."

Completely unimpressed by all the destruction around him, a single elf serenely entered the scene.

Elrond, passing by on coincidental purpose, casually took a wide graceful step over a particularly huge chunk of metal and stopped next to his foster father, calmly surveying the damage with a raised eyebrow.

 

"Elrond.", Maglor greeted him softly.

"Maglor.", Elrond replied mildly. "I see you have been quite busy."

 

His gaze wandered from the broken gate over a distraught Turgon to a rather exhausted looking Maia.

"May I still expect you for dinner?", he asked finally, ignoring the gasps running through the watching crowd at that question.

"Of course.", Maglor assured. "We will be there."

"Excellent.", Elrond's answering smile brought a mutter of stunned disbelief from the surrounding elves.

 

Inviting the house of Fëanor over for dinner? And being _happy_ about it?

Incomprehensible.

 

Their disbelief turned in downright awe as Elrond added lightly:

"I would be very much obliged if you refrained from **_knocking_**."

 

And unlike Turgon's impressively mighty gate, Elrond calmly withstood the glare Fëanor send in his direction.

Again.

**Author's Note:**

> For those who want to know what that liquid was: It is something that rapidly speeds up corrosion and leads to an instability in structure, a _Corrosion failure_. 
> 
> But you can of course believe (like everyone on Valinor) that it was the power of his glare that caused it. :D


End file.
